I was coasting through my forties not thinking too much of aging when I read this statement in an email from Integral Philosophy, it stated, ‘The horrors of ageing’.

It struck me like a thunderbolt. I was so conditioned to think of old age as growing older gracefully that it seemed odd to talk of growing older as an horrific shit show. But as I grew older and observed my body change, those words kept coming back to me.

While in my forties I was quite lean and mean physically, after a couple of years of unemployment, and drinking every day I moved into late Russel Crowe mode without the money and fame. Be a fat cunt by all means, but don’t be a poor fat cunt.

I stare at myself in the mirror at my pregnant belly and fat hairy tits, and wonder how it came to be. I am aware it is all self-destruction but you really don’t see it coming. Before I went to the doctors I was looking in the mirror thinking, not bad, it’s nice to be fat instead of thin. Enjoy growing older. Enjoy those beers, those extra sweets, maybe a microwaved curry on a Friday night, Marks and Spencer’s of course, the healthy option. But when the doctors said seventeen stone, I was like what the fuck? I went back to the mirror and thought, why do I see Brad Pitt and not Jonah the whale?

This reminded of a joke my father used to make that when he was younger. Every one said he looked like Elvis Presley, but as he grew older he looked more like Harry Secombe; some fat balding northern entertainer. Life is cruel, but it is my own doing. I was drinking the beer. I was observing the belly but did do nothing about it.

At least I have managed to swim again, and I am starting to realise that I may need help with the drinking. Life can be cruel, but if you don’t look after your health it can only get crueller.

I am now 56 and my sixties are appearing on the horizon, and if I am lucky I will be alive in my seventies. As I grow older I can only hope for at least my health, and that requires looking at what I put in my body, doing exercises, and remaining hopeful about life.

Yes growing older can appear like a horror show. It’s the realization that there is limited time left. The grim reaper is coming and not always in your eighties. I always say the sixties and seventies are like greater death zones. The potential for death and ill health increases exponentially when we head into these decades. Yes it can be morbid contemplating one’s own demise, and all the reflections on life that come with it, but there is no other way.

Can you go back? Can you stop the train of life hurtling forwards as it picks up speed? You are forced to embrace growing older, accept it. Head down the path where billions have travelled before us.

Enjoy the nature. Enjoy your family. Fresh air. Coffee. Maybe the odd beer. Running. Walking. Everything together can make each day last longer.